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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24190033">Impulse Control</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malachite_Knightess/pseuds/Malachite_Knightess'>Malachite_Knightess</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Feralgard, Hurt/Comfort, I don't even know what to call it but all of the shit that happened to Edelgard, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Tension, Spoilers, This is mostly going to be a bunch of Edelgard losing her shit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:34:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,845</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24190033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malachite_Knightess/pseuds/Malachite_Knightess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Edelgard has been adept at keeping her impulses in check, whether violent or otherwise. But enough tension, and that control snaps, in more ways than one. </p>
<p>It should go without saying, but major spoilers for CF and Edelgard's backstory.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Edelgard von Hresvelg/Dorothea Arnault</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Impulse Control</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>OKAY SO. i've been wanting to write a feralgard fic for ages, especially due to the fact that edelgard definitely has some trauma due to losing, y'know, all of her siblings and being experimented on by twsitd. The fact that she does not go unhinged in canon is a testament to her strength, but i just think it'd be neat if she did. so. here we are. </p>
<p>CW for violence, non-explicit sex, some mention of needles and other similar themes related to edelgard being experimented on.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The overall mood as the Black Eagles marched to Zanado, the Red Canyon could be described simply as restless. Caspar was fidgeting, running from the front of the party to the back, like a dog pacing when it was nervous. Linhardt, for once, was wide awake. Bernadetta was trembling, actively and openly, and Petra had a hand on her shoulder and attempted to soothe her, though her eyes betrayed that she, too, was struggling a little. Ferdinand was boasting even more loudly than usual, on some limitless rant about his “duty as a noble.” Dorothea was humming to herself, but the telltale tapping of her hand on her leg as she walked was more than enough to tell that she was antsy. Even Byleth, for all their stoicism, seemed to flick their eyes across the area more intensely and quickly than usual. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On the other hand, Edelgard was prepared. She wasn’t new to battle, or to suffering, or to doing what she must to ensure her survival. Her hands, gloved as always in soft ivory silk, gripped the haft of her axe. Perhaps it was purely a revenge factor, her annoyance at being pursued and nearly killed by the bandits on the very first night that she had met Byleth, but Edelgard strangely looked forward to this. Generally, she was not the type of person to be driven by revenge. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Save for the heinous man who had replaced her uncle long ago, and had arranged the torturous process to which she lost all eleven of her siblings and nearly her own life, which was another matter entirely. She could not wait to wring his neck, but the time for that would be another day, far from now.) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>However, the prospect of being chased by bandits, uncivilized and brash, boiled her blood some. Edelgard had fire in her veins, oft quite literally, and at times it was impossible to ignore the way her body burned to expel her strength. (Which was, of course, not quite as intimidatingly active as Dimitri’s, but of another realm entirely, despite the similarities in source: a crest.) Thankfully, though, Edelgard was of a disposition to resist such impulses, as long as she was not pushed too far. The prospect of her almost losing her life, if not for the brazen and perfectly-timed actions of Professor Byleth, was one such push. Her hands itched to take up her axe and show the fool who had bared his fangs, short and filthy as they were, at her, who had certainly withstood more hardship than a man who had turned to banditry as a means of survival, just what the fear of being killed tasted like. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A part of Edelgard’s heart sang at the notion of torturing the man and drawing every last sensation of pain she could from him, but she had the sense to lock that part away long ago. At this very moment, it paced, like a wolf in a cage, causing unrest in her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hubert, ever the observant aide, noticed her unrest, and simply gave her a look. They had communicated wordlessly when need be for some time, given that he had seen her at her lowest, and supported her still through everything. The particular glare he had given her was a simple message, one that she had gotten from him far too many times to be unable to recognize it: </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Be careful.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth held up a hand, signaling for the group to stop, which, though it took a second or two, was obeyed. “We’re here.” Their voice was, as always, devoid of emotion. The only betrayal of what they might be feeling at any given time were their eyes, shifting ever-so-subtly, so much so that most people did not even notice it. Edelgard, however, was not most people. It had taken her perhaps a few weeks, but after enough interactions with the professor, and witnessing them deliver lessons and lectures, she had been able to pin down what little emotions they showed. Their eyes were softer when they fished, ate, or were comforting or listening to one of their students. They became sharper, more narrow, by however slight a margin, when they were annoyed, or during battle, even a practice battle. Their neutral expression was the one worn most often, and was most easily identified, because of how little it changed. Put simply, it was empty. Like looking at the bottom of a teacup after a long conversation, or a candle, unlit that it might not flicker.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They stood at the other end of a bridge, across which was a plateau, of sorts. Even from this distance, figures could be spotted in tents, around campfires, and milling about. However, they were at such a close distance that their natural cover, the sands that blew across with the wind, did not obscure them. The bandits quickly noticed them, and the battle began in full force.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard advanced with the rest of her classmates and the professor, keeping her eyes out for stray archers or maged. Bandits that knew magic were rare, but not entirely unheard of, and thus, were important to be wary of. Despite her caution, she only saw a single archer, and charged forward to dispatch him. He was clearly inexperienced, and used to his allies covering for him. He fumbled to put an arrow to his bowstring, and shot it weakly at Edelgard, who easily sidestepped the wobbly shot. She sunk her axe into the side of his neck, deep enough to hit his throat but not decapitate him entirely. She cursed under her breath as the man sunk to the floor, gurgling and spitting up blood. He feebly attempted to reach his hand up to cover the gaping hole in his neck, but the last of life drained from his life as Edelgard set her foot against his skull and </span>
  <em>
    <span>pulled</span>
  </em>
  <span>, tearing the axe from his flesh. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She whirled in time to receive a glancing blow from one of the other bandits, who had approached from behind the archer. She ignored the sting of pain and the tear of her clothes as his blade bit into her ribs. Better her ribs than her arms or legs, that she would be crippled enough to not keep light on her feet or swing her axe. Edelgard growled, swinging her axe at him hard enough that even as he stepped away, she caught his wrist and carved away a portion large enough of his flesh that he would have to wield his weapon with one hand. She roared, feeling the Crest of Seiros make her limbs feel lighter and stronger than they did already, and cleanly cleaved through the man’s sword, raised in defense, and continued on a warpath through to his head. He was dead as soon as the axe made contact. A painless thing, she supposed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Distantly, she heard the shouts of her classmates, and she glanced back to see them paired off against combatants of their own. Byleth took on two of the bandits at once, using their blade like a wedge to drive them apart and single them out so they could neatly slice through their throats as though they were made from paper. They met Edelgard’s eyes, and after glancing at the rest of the class, made a slight incline of their head to indicate permission to continue onwards. The rest would catch up. Edelgard turned, and couldn’t stop herself from grinning. That pig of a man was all hers. She rushed forwards, dipping around the last bandit in the way of her prey and turning on her heel to use her momentum to swing horizontally at his neck. He wasn’t quick enough to get out of the way, and Edelgard’s axe cleaved a path through his neck, which angrily spat blood at her. She turned her cheek in time to avoid getting blinded, neglecting to wipe it from her face as she continued onwards. There was no time to look pretty, this was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>battle.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard strode forward, unstoppable, as though she were a very force of nature. She gripped the haft of her axe tightly, and she was sure that were her gloves not shielding her hands, she would see them turn white-knuckled. Kostas, the man’s name was. She did not make it a habit to retain the names of people who were worthless to her conquest. He was of note, however small and fragile such a note would be. She narrowed her eyes at him as she approached, dragging the tip of her axe along the ground like the tail of a rattlesnake. The grin across her lips nearly split her face, and she was grateful, then, for her distance from her classmates.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-you! I remember you, kid. Weren’t you the one that-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard did not respond. She held her axe with both hands, and ran at him. The feeling then, was liberating. Her arms burned as the Crest of Flames pulsed in her blood, that accursed, miserable power forced onto her for reasons beyond what mere malice was capable of. She heard the whisper of her siblings as it raced across her body, as though she were mere straw, fuel to the Flames. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“El…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She nearly missed it, but the whisper chilled her blood, and the grin dropped from her face as she returned to her usual mask. This was a necessity. It had to be done. He had to fall, so she could be stronger, so she could reform the world. He was merely a tool, a hurdle to climb over so that she would stand higher than she did now. There was no pride in this. There was no joy in this. This was murder, cold and true, and it simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She caged the beast in her blood again, and severed Kostas’ head from his body. She did not even watch to see his body fall. The thump of it hitting the sands beneath her was telltale enough. It was over. She did not need to fight anymore. It was over. He was dead. It was over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For now, at least.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>Bile bit at the back of her throat, and she swallowed it down, like a great serpent might swallow an egg that it happened upon. She had slipped. Her gaze turned upwards to Byleth, who stepped towards her, expression completely unknowable to her. Their eyes flicked to Kostas, then to Edelgard’s eyes. The deep azure of them was unnerving, piercing, and she feared that Byleth, for a moment, would know of the caged beast in her blood, and admonish her for it. Instead, they spoke two words, turned on their heel, and walked off, seemingly drawn to the ruins.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span> <span>“Well done.”</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The fear in Edelgard’s throat reminded her greatly of those horrid nights spent chained and alone, forced to listen to the skitter of rats in the dark and the distant screams of her siblings. She winced, and put it out of her mind. There was no time for fear, now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>By the time the Black Eagles returned to the monastery, all of them were exhausted, in one form or another. Byleth dismissed them, and they each moved as a group to return to their rooms and rest. Edelgard, however, was still antsy, and thus, returned to her room for a change of clothes, and left for the training grounds.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was still early in the morning, which left the training grounds nearly deserted. There was but one occupant other than her, Ingrid. Edelgard had kept an eye on her for some time now, albeit the short amount of time elapsed during the school year. Ingrid came from the Galatea family, and was blessed with the Crest of Daphnel. Despite this, it seemed her family had been in poor straits, and was in desperate need of making money to survive as a noble house. Her father had been and was still attempting to find a suitor for her, one who would pay a sizable enough dowry to keep the household afloat. Ingrid, however, had no desire to do this, despite her feelings that it was her duty, and longed to become a knight, strong and true of heart. Or so Hubert had told Edelgard, when she had asked him to investigate any prospective allies among the other houses. Truly, sometimes, even to Edelgard, Hubert’s ability to gather intelligence was terrifying.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid turned, braid swaying as she did, and regarded Edelgard with an expression of mild surprise, though she did not break her footing as she did so. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You and the others have returned already? I had heard the Black Eagles wouldn’t be back for some time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard grabbed a training axe from the racks, hefting it in her hand. It was far too light for her liking, but would be good enough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We have, yes. Just earlier this dawn, in fact. Zanado posed little trouble in terms of challenge, though I worry about some of my classmates.” She spun the axe in her hand, resting it on her shoulder and making a heavy swing at one of the targets. The resulting </span>
  <em>
    <span>CRACK</span>
  </em>
  <span> was quite satisfying, and it made Edelgard feel at ease as she slid into routine. “Taking your first life is a difficult thing. I’m particularly worried for Dorothea and Bernadetta, though I believe that both of them will come to terms with it eventually.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid merely nodded, though something seemed to shimmer in her eyes at mention of Dorothea’s name. Edelgard did not recognize such a thing, as it flashed through her so quickly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like to spar, Edelgard? I do not have as much experience against axe wielders as I would like.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard smiled at her, her usual, small smile, a far cry from the ugly grin that had split her face at the Red Canyon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Certainly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard flipped the axe in her hands once more, an object of pure flourish, but one that was easy enough for her hands to carry out. She held the axe low, at her side, and circled the training grounds with Ingrid, who watched her with observant and determined eyes. Her footing was one of someone who had been wielding the lance for a long, long time, and the grip with which she held it only further betrayed her experience. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid nodded, and that was all the indication Edelgard needed. The pair clashed, the resounding </span>
  <em>
    <span>thwack</span>
  </em>
  <span>s of the wooden weapons striking each other soon filling the quiet morning air. Ingrid attempted to keep her at a distance, which was good; that was what she was supposed to do as a lancer, and dodged out of the way more than she parried. A well-aimed strike from an axe had been known to hew lance shafts in two, and was thus something to be well aware of when you used a lance. Naturally, Edelgard sought at every turn to expose a weakness or an opening enough to strike out at the weapon with hers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid was much faster than she had expected, and was an advantage she had over Edelgard. Her strong footing allowed her to maneuver with ease, and the quick, sharp jabs with which she kept Edelgard at bay were relentless, albeit sometimes a little sloppy. She was a worthy opponent. Once, however, Ingrid pressed her luck with a wide swing of her lance, and that was all that Edelgard needed. She swung at the opening she was given, making contact with Ingrid’s lance as she did her best to block it. Edelgard pressed her strength forward, eyes blazing with determination, until she heard the telltale crack of wood beginning to splinter. She gave one last push, and the lance broke, leaving no defense between the mock weapon and Ingrid’s neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <span>Edelgard pulled, stopping just before she touched Ingrid, and looked at her. She was a little disheveled, still holding the broken ends of her lance, and was unmoving. Her eyes caught Edelgard’s, and in the deep pool of green, she saw admiration swimming in her gaze. It made her eyes sparkle, like light hitting polished jade. The sight made her chest feel warm, in a way that she didn’t quite understand. Was she simply winded? Edelgard turned away, letting the wooden axe rest at her side. She murmured her apologies, setting the training axe back on the rack and striding off. She did not turn back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The feeling haunted Edelgard for the next week, and she avoided Ingrid all the more for it. It was not hard, given that they were in different classes, but there were times when she would spot her from across the dining hall and do her very best to not make eye contact and look unapproachable. Once, she went to the training grounds, only to crack open the doors, see a flash of blonde, and turn around to return to her room and work on her studies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She could not put a name to the warmth. It was not a feeling that she was familiar with, and she could only equate it to the way she felt when drinking a warm cup of bergamot tea, properly made and just to her liking. Or, perhaps, the way she felt when she gazed at carnations, with their brilliant crimson petals that reminded her of the curtains in her family home, when she would spend her days with her siblings. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And yet, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and yet,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was not quite the same. She would not compare it to the way she felt when she and Hubert spent time together, for their bond was almost familial, and he was a sibling to her in his own right. It was not the thrill of battle, of demonstrating her strength as a warrior and the future emperor. It was not the joy of victory, of outsmarting her opponents in a strategy game and pulling a win against stacked odds. It was not like anything she had felt, and yet she could not shake Ingrid’s gaze in her mind’s eye. She would have sleepless nights, when she was unable to occupy her mind with her studies or training or chores, and her thoughts would drift without fail to the way Ingrid had looked at her. The warmth would return, every time, and it had spread to her cheeks, which made sense, for she was truly embarrassed that she simply could not figure out what name to put to the feeling.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nearly a month passed, and with it, the uprising of Lonato and the Western Church. More evidence of Rhea’s wrongdoings to put on the pile. It infuriated her, in a sense, that she could so openly declare the deaths of so many people without being even questioned. Townspeople, regular civilians had been wrapped up in this mess. She did not know Ashe well, and had little desire to, but passing him as she went about her business and seeing the dour expression on his face made her feel sympathy for him. She could only imagine what the boy was going through. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the thing was over and done with, still her heart did not rest, and it was then that she saw Ingrid again. Edelgard had been assigned to stable duty, and Ingrid had happened to be there, as she was known to spend much time tending to the horses and pegasi. Edelgard was not particularly skilled at riding, let alone flying, and thus had not spent much time here, but a chore was a chore, and she had little choice in the matter. Edelgard cleared her throat to make her presence known, and Ingrid had looked at her again. An expression of acknowledgement, innocuous, innocent, almost meaningless, and yet the warmth still came. Edelgard ignored it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good afternoon.” Ingrid spoke. Edelgard simply nodded at her in response, and began her duties in the stable, refilling water troughs, picking stray stones and splinters out of hooves, cleaning out each section to allow the creatures to have a sanitary environment. It was busywork, she knew, but was nonetheless necessary, and so she did it without complaint. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Every now and then, she would catch Ingrid stealing glances at her, her lips pursed as though she had something she wanted to say. However, she did not speak up. Edelgard did everything she could to meet her gaze, for fear of the feeling returning to her chest. She did not want to look the fool in front of someone. When she had finished her duties, she turned to leave, and she felt Ingrid’s hand on her shoulder before she could.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sensation caused Edelgard to startle, as though she had been burned, and she whirled to face Ingrid.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Edelgard. I didn’t mean to… to offend you. Nor did I mean to cause any offense, when we sparred a moon ago. I fear that I may have somehow shown you some sort of disrespect, and I do not… I would not want you to think any less of me for it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You did nothing wrong.” The words left her lips before she even thought about it. “I… simply had other matters to attend to, that I had remembered at that moment.” A lie. “That’s all. You have not offended me.” The truth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid smiled, nodding. She returns to her work, and Edelgard hears her, shouting after her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We should spar again!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard pretends that the prospect does not excite her, and offers merely a bob of her head as she mindlessly walks off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A week passes, and Edelgard finds Dorothea outside of class, inviting her to have tea with her. Dorothea accepts, and she lets her into her room, that prying ears and eyes might not bother them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My, Edie, it’s unlike you to take the initiative. To what do I owe the pleasure? Do you need some advice? Perhaps you’d like me to do your makeup, or speak about prospective romances? Ooh! Maybe you’ve got a crush.” Dorothea waggles her eyebrows, and the motion makes Edelgard roll her eyes, though she smiles behind her teacup.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I simply wanted to ask you something. I… Trust that you will keep this quiet, but I have found myself unsure, as of late. I…” She groans, feeling her face flush. Flames, this was embarrassing. “When someone looks at you, and it makes you feel warm, what does that mean? I don’t understand it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dorothea claps her hands, and she’s so giddy she nearly spills her tea all over the table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Edie! You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a crush! Who’s the lucky fella? Or lady? Maybe it’s the professor? They are kind of dreamy, I couldn’t blame you-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No, no, that doesn’t make sense. Of course Edelgard had entertained the idea, briefly, but the concept of having a, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>crush</span>
  </em>
  <span>? She was not a child, prone to fits of fancy, she was the future emperor of Adrestia, and she did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a goddess-damned </span>
  <em>
    <span>crush.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What makes you think it’s that? I mean… It could be something else.” Dorothea sighs, and smiles at her, leaning forward. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Think about it. Really think about it. When have you last felt something like that? Why do you think that is? Think about how you might feel spending time with them, doing intimate things with them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>suggesting I-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said </span>
  <em>
    <span>think,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Edie. Nobody can read your mind. You can think about whatever you like.” Edelgard groaned, rubbing her temples. This was giving her a headache. But, she supposed, she would indulge Dorothea. She thought about Ingrid, and as soon as she did, her eyes permeated her mind. The admiration as she held her gaze, having had a worthy, equal spar, solely as a pair of people, nothing more. They had shed their roles for a moment, and had danced as combatants, swinging and dodging and blocking. It had felt liberating. It… </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard indulged for a moment, if she had leaned forward, during that moment, with her axe at Ingrid’s neck, and kissed her. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> what people did, when they had interest in one another, yes? It was all she had, and so she thought of it, and the warmth in her lit into a fire in her bones. She imagined pressing her lips to Ingrid’s, feeling the blonde’s hands in her hair and on her skin. She imagined the feeling of teeth on her neck, and hands trailing lower, lower, </span>
  <em>
    <span>lower…</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p><span>“Edie, darling? You’re redder than a tomato, are you okay?” Edelgard flinched, willing herself to put those thoughts away and tuck them into a chest, lock it, and throw it in some abandoned corner of her mind. She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down, to relax, to not think about </span><em><span>that</span></em><span> anymore. It kind of worked, but not exactly.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span> <span>“I. Believe you may be onto something.” She murmured. Dorothea seemed more excited than ever, resting a hand on her cheek and taking a sip of her tea while making eyes at Edelgard.</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, who is it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Absolutely not.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on!</span>
  </em>
  <span> After I helped you realize that’s what it was, you won’t even tell me? That’s cold, even for you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“One day, dear Dorothea. Perhaps.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So it was infatuation, then, Edelgard supposed. She had seen Ingrid, and found in her a worthy sparring partner, and had admiration for her dedication to being true. She supposed such values weren’t necessarily to be followed at all times, after all, one must not pass up on openings to strike down one’s opponent, no matter how unjust it may be. But there was something to be admired in the loyalty, there. The want to do good, for good’s sake, and not for glory or gold. And when she had been so close to Ingrid, in the training, and seen her looking down at her with those Goddess-damned </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyes…</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard wanted to drown in them. To see the looks Ingrid was capable of when she was teased, or when she smiled or laughed. A part of her longed to see the way Ingrid’s eyes would look, glassy with desire. It was a part similar to the wolf in her veins, pacing relentlessly for the chance to prove her strength, to slay her enemies, to see their heads roll. She would have to keep such a thing in check. Her impulses needed to be restrained. No matter how much she would, when thinking about it, like to kiss Ingrid.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Three weeks passed, and the attack on the Holy Mausoleum was repelled. Byleth had stepped out of the site in possession of the Sword of the Creator, one of the most powerful relics, and the one Nemesis held when he warred against Saint Seiros. Better yet, Rhea had allowed them to keep the weapon, due to their ability to use it. It made them all the more intriguing to Edelgard, and only reaffirmed her desire to have them on her side in the coming war. She would make an effort to open up to them, she decided. Objectively speaking, being closer to them would increase the chances of them joining her. Also… it would be nice, she supposed, to have a friend, a confidant. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In those three weeks, Edelgard had done what she could to spend even a small amount of time with Ingrid. This had resulted in two meals eaten together, during which Edelgard found out Ingrid’s love of food, and tendency to indulge in it a little too much. She had noted it in the back of her mind, for later. They had also had several more sparring sessions, though none quite as intense as the first. The record so far was in Edelgard’s favor, though Ingrid had surprised her a couple times and outmaneuvered her. The pair enjoyed sparring and training together, and it was a way for Edelgard to get to know Ingrid better. They’d even agreed to meet up at least once a week, early on Sunday mornings, to ensure that they sparred together often.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was… sweet. And since then, Edelgard had begun looking forward to every Sunday, not just for the free day, but to spend the mornings with Ingrid. It was one such day, and Edelgard stepped out of her room and turned in the hallway, only to nearly run directly into Dorothea.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at Edelgard with a catty grin, her arms folded, and eyes glistening with amusement. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Edie, darling. Where are you off to so early?” She was not particularly in the mood for being teased, and didn’t want to be late to the training grounds. Dorothea put a hand on her chest, lightly pushing her back towards her room. “Let’s have a little talk.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, dear. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard sighed, relenting and going back into her room. Dorothea followed, shutting the door behind her. Dorothea was undeniably one of her closest friends in the Black Eagles. She was an easy person to be friends with, talkative and witty, though kind beneath her sharp tongue. She and Edelgard often shared meals together, and they’d made a habit of going to Professor Byleth’s seminars together as well. They even shared tea, from time to time, and so much time together ultimately resulted in the pair bonding. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> you had good taste, Edie, but this takes the cake.” Dorothea grinned, putting one hand on her hip. “Ingrid Brandl Galatea, hm? I’m glad to not be the only one to see how adorable she is.” Edelgard’s face was annoyingly warm, and for a brief moment, she seriously considered throwing open the window and crawling out to make her escape. A groan left her throat. Now she had to deal with an entire school year of Dorothea’s teasing. Great.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, Dot. Yes, it’s Ingrid, and yes, you helped me figure it out. She’s… well. I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you what merits she has.” Dorothea laughed.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, honey, you don’t. Mind if I come with to your little weekly spar? I want to see my girls in action.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something about that simple phrase, ‘my girls’, caused a stir in Edelgard’s gut, and she was nodding before she could even think about it. She stepped past Dorothea, who let her go, this time, and the pair left for the training grounds.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they arrived, Ingrid looked only mildly surprised to see Dorothea accompanying Edelgard. Flames, if Dorothea had </span>
  <em>
    <span>told</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ingrid-</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Swords or axe and lance?” It was how they started every morning, with one of them asking the other their preference. It was a comfort to hear the familiar words. (And to hear Ingrid’s voice, but frankly, Edelgard was going to lose her mind if she managed to embarrass herself in front of both Ingrid and Dorothea.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Swords, today. Last match, you got me, but this time won’t be so easy.” Edelgard gave her a determined smile, and Ingrid responded in turn. Her emerald eyes crinkled as she grinned, and the sight made Edelgard’s heart flip-flop in her chest. She walked to the rack, picking through training swords until she found one that fit comfortably in her hand. It was light enough to simulate the swords she preferred to use; thinner, lighter blades, as her axe was plenty on the power front, and her use of the sword was a way to compensate for the slowness of the heavy weapons. She twirled it in her palm, and walked to the center of the grounds, where Ingrid was already waiting for her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pair lightly tapped the edges of their mock weapons together, and then the spar began. Ingrid was still faster than her, but Edelgard had the strength and endurance advantage. It was a matter of holding her ground until she had her chance, and that, Edelgard could do. Ingrid assaulted her with a flurry of blows, an overhead swing, followed by a horizontal slash, and a final jab at her midsection. She parried the first one with her weapon, using a hand on the flat of the wooden blade to support it. The second swing was easy enough to backstep, then, and she batted away the stab with a flick of her wrist, and responded with a swing of her own. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard feinted, tipping the edge of the weapon to change direction mid-slice, but Ingrid was quick enough to back away. Edelgard’s eyes narrowed in frustration, and she distantly heard Dorothea coo at the match. At least she was enjoying herself. Edelgard stepped forward, blood pumping as she swung her weapon hard at Ingrid. She raised her weapon to block, and braced her arm against it. Edelgard’s blade made contact, and she pushed enough force into it that Ingrid slid back a half-pace, still holding her in place. She set her feet, pressing back against Edelgard, and grunting as she did so. It was not often she rose to Edelgard’s challenges of force, but clearly, Ingrid was feeling confident. Her eyes met Edelgard’s, and in that sea of green, she saw fierce determination. Competition was plain as day on her face, and in her eyes blazed a fire that Edelgard was unused to seeing. The fire grew, louder and louder until she swore she could hear the crackle of flames consuming wood, and light flashed in Ingrid’s eyes as her crest pulsed through her. She batted away Edelgard’s weapon, throwing it from the shorter girl’s hands, and pressed the tip of her weapon under Edelgard’s jaw. Edelgard raised her hands in defeat, ignoring the way that heat shot through her like an arrow through her heart. It nearly made her legs tremor, and though she was not devout, she prayed to whatever force truly existed that Ingrid and Dorothea would not notice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ingrid met her gaze, breathing lightly through her mouth from the intensity of the match. It was a similar look to the one Edelgard had received from her during their very first sparring match, and she caught a whine in her throat before it could pass her lips. Her face was undoubtedly flushed, but she could blame the exertion. She did not think herself a greedy woman, but there was nothing more that she wanted in that moment than for Ingrid to pull her in for a crashing of their lips together. It was yet another log upon the flames of her desires, and it brought a dull ache to her chest as heat shot through her once more. She bit the inside of her cheek, and let a breath through her lips as Ingrid lowered her mock weapon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>From the sidelines, Dorothea cheered, clapping her hands together and winking at her while Ingrid’s back was turned. Ugh. She loved Dorothea, but sometimes, the woman irked her in a way that made her wish (in jest) for the chance to throw her fist into the brunette’s cheek. Edelgard smiled at Ingrid, holding her hand out to shake Ingrid’s. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Excellent match. Your use of your crest was perfect. I can see you’ve been practicing often.” Ingrid took her hand, and shook it, as they’d done several times before. Edelgard could feel the warmth of her hand through the gloves she wore, and even such a simple thing as that shot a thrill through her. Ingrid smiled, and then her heart was jumping in her chest again. Edelgard felt her inhibitions cracking, and managed to keep herself in check, but she needed to do something about this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Time ticked ever onwards, as it tends to do, and in those months, Edelgard grew fonder and fonder of her friends and classmates. Dorothea attended every other one of their sparring sessions, and even sparred with each of them a couple times. The Black Eagles assisted Ingrid with the matter of an unsavory suitor, and she joined their class only a week later. Edelgard’s heart rejoiced at the chance to be closer to her, so much so that she could bear Dorothea’s teasing without trouble. For a time, she was happy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But time does not stop for anyone. It never has, and it never will.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The incident at Remire happened, and the sight of such senseless slaughter caused the beast in Edelgard’s blood to thrash against its cage. Family killed family, and friend killed friend, driven mad by accursed magic. Magic that she knew the culprit of. Her hands trembled in rage, and her body grew hot with it. Her mind could think of only retribution. She strode forward on the battlefield, an embodiment of fury, and she did not think of the way her axe bit into flesh. She did not care for the stain of blood on her hands and clothes. She did not devote attention to the splitting of bone and muscle like cloth beneath the hew of her weapon, of her strength. She found Solon, and her mind blurred. She felt as though her skin was boiling, and she swung at his neck. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A wretched, angry cry tore through her throat, and she heard the whisper of her siblings in her mind. They begged her to free them, to help them, to let them rest. Voices she could not even recognize joined them, shouting and jeering like a mob as her weapon missed its mark. She winced as foul magic burned against her skin, and the pain of it seared through their shouts. She could not breathe. She could not breathe. It hurt. It hurt. She was reminded of scalpels, of bindings burning into her wrists, of the skitter of rats sneaking across stone, of her throat, raw from her own screams from twisted experiments performed on her, of the pain that resounded with every single heartbeat after dozens of needles pressed their way into her veins and filled her veins with accursed flame. Edelgard screamed, and her axe tore through Solon, cutting an angry, thick line across his gut. He coughed, and stepped back. The stink of his foul magic filled her nostrils as he casted a Warp, and then he was gone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard sinks to her knees, wincing. She needs to get out of here. She needs to get out of here. She needs- She needs a mask. She reaches in her pocket, fumbling for the Warp powder she keeps in a flask there, and uses it, returning to her room. She dons the armor of the Flame Emperor, and something about the weight of it makes her feel at ease. She puts the mask over her face, and braces herself, warping back to Remire.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After the events of Remire, Edelgard is despondent. So much pointless death, and delivered to people who did not deserve it. Those Who Slither In The Dark were cruel, of this much she was aware, but the degree of it made her sick. It made her head spin, and the night of their return, she curls in bed and longs for even a chance to end them. It would not come until she could eliminate the Church, she knew, but oh, how she wished. She feels restless. Angry. She wants to charge into Agartha herself and rip Thales’ head from his body. Her nails dig into her arms as she holds herself, and she does not notice until beads of blood wet her fingertips.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard does not sleep that night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dawn comes, and she rises, exhausted from her bed to work. She needed to occupy her mind. If she did not, she would fail to control her impulses. That day, Edelgard completes all of her assignments, some of which are not due for weeks. She reads textbooks on strategy until her head hurts and her eyes itch with dryness. She does not leave her room. Part of her cracks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Ethereal Moon slips through her grasp as Edelgard spends each day going through the motions. She attends class, hands in assignments, goes to seminars, and even spends time with her friends. She spars with Ingrid, as she always does, and wins every bout that month. She hardly thinks about it, tossing herself recklessly into the fight to swing at her partner with a strength unbridled. Ingrid does not give her any more of those heated looks that Edelgard longs for, and her heart aches because of it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It takes her half the month to notice Dorothea has stopped teasing her about Ingrid, and instead inquires into Edelgard’s well-being. She says she is fine, because she is. Edelgard is perfectly fine, despite the haze in her mind, and the heaviness of her limbs. She is fine, despite the restlessness of her nights, and the distant whisper of ghosts, that she hears if she does not occupy herself. She is fine, despite the way she throws herself into her training until she nearly passes out at the training grounds in the middle of the night. She sips her tea that afternoon, as she spends time ignoring the worried looks that Dorothea sends her, and she finds it tasteless. It burns her tongue, but she doesn’t flinch. She takes another sip and excuses herself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At the end of the month, Jeralt dies, and Edelgard has never seen her teacher so plainly emotional. She promises to help them take their revenge when they are ready, and it is half for their sake, half for her own. She spends the month training more seriously than she has in a long time, and reigniting the fire in her veins.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At the very next sparring session, which Edelgard used an axe for, against Ingrid’s sword, Edelgard does something impulsive. The fight is more heated than usual, and she knows for a fact that Ingrid has been training, too, on her own time. It’s in Edelgard’s favor, now, but Ingrid is relentless, slashing and dodging so gracefully that she looks like a dancer. Edelgard thinks she sees an opening and swings, full-force. Her axe clatters from her hands as she overswings, and Ingrid pushes her down, holding the mock-weapon to Edelgard’s throat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her heart pounds in her chest as she gazes up at Ingrid, and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> her emotions are plain as day on her face. Her affection for Ingrid. Her pure </span>
  <em>
    <span>desire.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The restlessness she’s been feeling for more than a month now. Ingrid looks at her in the way that sends heat through her, and before Edelgard can stop herself, her hands are in Ingrid’s hair and she’s leaning forward and pressing her lips against Ingrid’s. The woman on top of her makes a noise of surprise, but kisses her back, clumsy, energetic. Edelgard groans as Ingrid slips her tongue against her lower lip, and tugs on her hair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, the door to the training grounds creaks, and Ingrid flies off of Edelgard faster than she’s ever seen her move. Petra stands there, regarding them with an expression of mild confusion. But she does not say anything and neither does Ingrid. The moment goes as fast as it came, and Edelgard scrambles to her feet, leaving the training grounds.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Flames, she was such a fool, sometimes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That night, she hears a knock on her door. When she answers it, Ingrid is there, in her nightgown, and she asks if she can come in. Edelgard nods, and then Ingrid’s hand is at her waist, and she’s looking into Edelgard’s eyes. Her eyes, verdant and shimmering, even in the dim candlelight, are aflame with hunger. She shuts the door behind her as she steps closer to Edelgard, and Ingrid’s voice tremors with nervousness as she speaks again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you? We got interrupted last time, but now…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard pushes her against the door, and kisses her like Ingrid’s lips are air, and she’s been holding her breath. She’s rough, she knows it, but Ingrid doesn’t seem to mind, and kisses her with the same fervor. Her hands snake to Edelgard’s hair, and as her fingers curl against her scalp, a thrill of electricity shoots down her neck and into her chest. Edelgard whines in a tone she didn’t know she was capable of. Ingrid carefully walks her back to her bed, and gently pushes her down against the sheets. Her lips trail down to Edelgard’s neck, and she nips at the skin there. The bites feel like sparks of flame, dancing on her skin, and the heat begins to pool beneath her stomach. Ingrid’s hands tug at her nightgown, as though asking for permission, and Edelgard disrobes without a second thought. She feels a little self-conscious, until Ingrid follows suit, and she sees that she isn’t wearing any smallclothes. Ingrid’s hands trail between her thighs, and Edelgard’s mind goes blank.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next morning, Ingrid is gone from her bed. Edelgard ignores the chill that thrums through her, and instead gets ready for the day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pair never really discuss what they have between them, not during the school year, anyways. Ingrid would occasionally steal kisses from Edelgard, in dark corners of the school, deserted hallways, the empty library, any time it was possible. The thrill of it only made Edelgard want her more, and soon, they were very well-acquainted with each others’ bodies. Any night that they didn’t have depressing amounts of schoolwork, Ingrid would knock on her door, and they would spend the night together. She wasn’t particularly experienced, but she was a fast learner, and before long, Ingrid knew every spot that made Edelgard go wild. Edelgard, on the other hand, knew that Ingrid loved when she tugged on her braid. She let out cute noises when Edelgard raked her nails down her back, and she would always put more effort into whatever she was doing if Edelgard praised her. She preferred Edelgard’s fingers to her mouth, and she was happy to oblige. It was nice, a way to relieve tension for the both of them, and to help Edelgard ignore the faded, bloody figures in the corners of her vision. They managed to keep it quiet for some time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Byleth took revenge for their father, and merged with the Goddess. Edelgard cleaved through Agarthan soldiers like they were nothing, and looked in time to see Byleth sink the Sword of the Creator into Solon’s neck. The battle ended, and Byleth was changed. Rhea seemed to favor them even more, now, and they were more powerful. Another mystery.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then… Then Edelgard had to return to Enbarr. Byleth accompanied her, and bore witness to the trading of the Adrestian crown. She knew her father didn’t have much time left, and accepted the role without fear. But… there was a part of her that died when she saw her father, pallid and weary, as he passed leadership to his only remaining child. She banished the Prime Minister for all his crimes, and returned to Garreg Mach in time for the ritual in the Holy Mausoleum.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard slips away during the ritual, and makes her move. She fails, inevitably, due to the skill of her classmates and her teacher, and it stings to see the people she cares for pointing their weapons at her. Sadness takes her, and the voices of her siblings ring in her ears as Byleth reaches her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rhea commands her death. Edelgard braces herself for release, and it never comes. Byleth turns their blade at the church. She has never been more hopeful in her life. All of her classmates join her, Ingrid included. Edelgard weeps tears of joy, finding solace in the fact that she is loved.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But then… everything goes wrong. The attack on Garreg Mach is chaotic, and they only barely succeed in their attempt to take it. There are so many casualties. Her mind swims with fear, and the worry that she’s leading her friends to their death. Rhea is driven from the monastery, and just as things seem to be less bleak, rubble collapses onto Byleth. Edelgard herself searches through the rubble for hours, until her hands bleed and her arms ache. She finds nothing. She searches, and only finds corpses. Corpses, corpses, corpses. Students, monks, knights, her own soldiers. Edelgard’s stomach clenches, and she nearly vomits. They’ve taken so much from her. They’ve taken too much from her. Her family, innocents, people who were dragged into this against their will.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The whispers in her mind turn to shouts. The voices of the dead beg her to atone, to let them rest, to help them. Help them. Help them. Help them. Edelgard covers her ears, and still she hears them. Tears run down her face, and her mouth tastes like ash. Bloodied figures flood her vision, and their eyes, locked onto her, are cold and empty. Help them, Edelgard. You must help them. You must put them to rest. You must get revenge.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her tears stop. Something in her cracks and shatters into pieces. Dull, clumsy hands grasp for her axe. She stands, and walks forward, as she has always done. Nothing will get in her way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A year into the war for Fódlan, and it is chaos. Rhea takes shelter with the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, like the coward she is. Claude returns to the Leicester Alliance and attempts to hold it united against the clashing forces. Dimitri is crowned king, and points his lance at Adrestia. Edelgard is sick and tired of this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She desperately wants nothing more than to lop the head off of Thales every time she sees him. She knows she’s got bigger fish to fry, though, and works on pushing her advantage. Her tactics are aggressive, bold, and it puts her at ease some. She is not very at ease, these days. The ghosts of her past and everyone she has killed haunt her viciously, persistently. They doggedly follow at her every step, and speak loudly in her ears. She can do nothing to quiet them. Edelgard no longer has the time for fooling around with Ingrid. She no longer has time to share a cup of tea with Dorothea. She no longer has time for anyone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The only time she truly takes for herself is when she is on the battlefield. She cleaves through soldiers with reckless abandon, splitting hard, angry lines through formations. Her crests burn her alive, and she uses her own funeral pyre to incinerate the people in her path. Edelgard becomes a living weapon, as she was always meant to be, and she has never felt more fulfilled than when her axe hews open skulls and splits bodies into pieces. She stands atop a growing pedestal of death and flame, and she is drenched in blood. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She dons heavier armor than she is used to wearing, charcoal black and accented with the blood red feathers of the Adrestian Eagle. It protects her from more fatal blows than she can count, but it does not cover her head, and she receives a harsh cut across the side of her face during an ambush. The pain blossoms across Edelgard’s cheek and jaw, dripping with her blood. She whirls on the man fool enough to attempt to assassinate her and cleaves him in two at the waist. The sight of his dismemberment brings a primal satisfaction to her, and quiets the voices of her ghosts, if only for a moment. The Crest of Flames drinks up his anguish greedily, sealing the wound on her face into an angry red line. She lives, and she kills, and that is all she is, for a time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard is still the Emperor, but Hubert takes over a large portion of her duties. She suspects he is worried for her, but pays it little mind. She is at the top of the food chain, and does not need the worry of anyone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She spends five grueling years struggling. Edelgard defends entire outposts nearly by herself, taking down scores of soldiers per battle. Her attempts to take new ground are small, but step by torturous step, she pushes against the front line. She is pulled from the battlefield only by necessity. She is no fool, seeking her own death, and retreats when she needs to.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then, during the Millenium Festival, things change. Edelgard tears through a batallion by her lonesome, leaving corpses scattered at her feet in pools of blood. It is not an unusual feat for her. They were a scouting party, from the Church of Seiros. She’s expecting an attack, and so she waits, atop the Goddess Tower, gazing out over the fields to look for an approaching strike force. Her axe, still dripping with blood, hangs at her side. Edelgard’s hair is messy, put into a side ponytail merely for the sake of keeping it out of her face. Ghosts murmur in the back of her head, still quiet from the fresh blood on her hands. The beast in her blood, though long since freed from its bonds, sleeps for a moment. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Edelgard’s ears perk at the sound of footsteps, steady and gentle up the stairs of the tower. They reach her, and a familiar head of mint hair comes into view. Recognition flashes in Byleth’s eyes, and for once, Edelgard wonders whose expression is emptier.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to haunt me too, Professor?”</span>
</p>
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